THE BOMBARDMENT OF DAR-ES-SALAAM

Your troth was broken ere the trumpets blew;
Into the fight with unclean hands you rode:

Your spurs were sullied, and the sword you drew
Bore stain of outrage done to honour’s code.

And you have played your game as you began,
Witness the white flag raised ...

•••••••

And the swift stroke of traitor steel for thanks.

•••••••

The world (no fool) will know where lies the blame
If England lets your pleadings go unheard;

To grace of chivalry you’ve lost your claim;
We’ve grown too wise to trust a Bosche’s word.

O.S.

Punch: February 16, 1916.

In all we were about three weeks at the camp, and we spent some very happy days there; but the end came rather unexpectedly one evening, when we suddenly received an order from the ship to pack all our gear and get on board by 9 the following morning. We were a little sorry, and yet in a sense relieved, for after all we were out to fight, not to picnic—and we had hardly seen a shot fired since we left home waters.

We telephoned to the port officer to have a car ready to take us and our effects down to Kilindini Harbour by 8 a.m., and that night we were busy packing up all our cooking utensils, our range-finder, clothes, etc.

Next morning we were up early, packed our bedding, had a good look round to see that nothing had been forgotten, dismissed our native servant, and then awaited the car we had ordered.

But time went on, and there was no sign of any car, so at 8.15 I was sent off on the same old bike to commandeer the first taxi I came across. Fortunately I managed to get one just inside the town, and went back with it as quickly as possible. We loaded up in a frantic hurry, and got down to the pier just in time, and so on board our ship.

By noon we were clear of the harbour, and steaming at full speed southwards.

Now we learned that we were under orders to destroy all the shipping in the harbour of Dar-es-Salaam, the capital of German East Africa, which lies about twenty miles south of Zanzibar. It appeared that the Huns in that port had been surreptitiously supplying food, etc. to the crew of the Koenigsberg, that German raider which had been safely bottled up in the Rufigi river some weeks previously, and it was designed to cut their claws by disabling such merchant shipping as they possessed.

That evening we dropped anchor in Zanzibar, and started coaling by native labour. Here we saw the masts of H.M.S. Pegasus sticking up forlornly out of the water half-a-mile on our port bow. They were very much battered and smashed, for she had been sunk by the Koenigsberg in September.

Early next morning we weighed anchor, and proceeded out of the harbour in company with H.M.S. “——.”

At 8 a.m. we sighted Dar-es-Salaam, and all hands went to general quarters. Half-an-hour later we dropped anchor in the roads outside Dar-es-Salaam, and when all the guns were cleared away, and ready for instant action, we were allowed to go on deck for a few minutes.

The town, with the Governor’s house, a handsome building, standing out prominently on the foreshore, looked very peaceful and harmless in the brilliant tropical sunshine. It was rather an awful thought that we might have to shatter and destroy those quiet-looking houses in which lived women, and worst of all—children. War is a ghastly thing, and it seems so wantonly stupid.

A large white flag was hoisted at our fore-mast. We meant to play a square game anyway, and give them a fair chance. Then we signalled to the Governor of the town to come on board and receive our ultimatum.

The said ultimatum was as follows—

If our boats were allowed to go unmolested into the harbour, there to destroy the shipping in accordance with our orders, we would not bombard the town. But—in the event of hostile action against our expedition we should open fire on the town without further warning.

The Governor, in reply, said that he could not accede to our demands without orders from the commander-in-chief of the military forces, and he then returned under safe conduct to the shore. Shortly afterwards another boat appeared with a German military officer in the stern-sheets. He came on board and stated that our boats would not be molested, but he asked us in the event of our finding it necessary to bombard, not to fire on the Protestant Mission House, or on the Cathedral, as all the women and children would be sheltered in those buildings. This looked a bit suspicious, but of course we agreed, without demur, not in any case to fire on those particular buildings, an agreement which I need hardly say was faithfully adhered to.

The German then returned to the shore, and shortly afterwards our picket boat was lowered. The demolition party was on board in charge of the Commander, who was accompanied by the Torpedo and Engineer lieutenants, and she proceeded towards the shore.

Unfortunately she ran aground, so the pinnace was hoisted out and sent to take off the officers and men, after which they proceeded into the harbour under a white flag as agreed upon. H.M.S. “——“‘s steamboat, and a steam tug commanded by one of our lieutenants, also went in under the white flag.

General quarters was then sounded off, and we all went to our action stations.

At this time all of us midshipmen, together with the A.P. (Assistant Paymaster), were stationed in the Fore T.S., which was our appointed action station, so we could see nothing of what was happening, and were dependent on the telephone for news. In about ten minutes the officer in charge of one of the batteries telephoned through to us that rapid firing had broken out from the shore, although the Germans were still flying the white flag!

The treacherous, dishonourable devils!!!

Almost immediately the order came through from the control position: “Range 4500, deflection 3 left—both turrets load with common—object—the Governor’s house”—followed quickly by “Commence!” The A.P. who worked the turret telephone gave the order “Stand by—Fire!” And about one minute later we heard from the battery that the Governor’s house had been hit and totally destroyed! Jolly good shot! Hurrah!

Now all guns which could be brought to bear on the town were firing rapidly.

About noon we heard that the tug had reappeared in the mouth of the harbour and was heading for H.M.S. “——.” She had a bad escape of steam from her boiler, and had signalled for assistance, reporting at the same time several wounded on board as well as twenty German prisoners. The bombardment continued the whole afternoon. Down in the Fore T.S. the heat was stifling—we were all stripped to the waist and streaming with perspiration.

At 4·30 we heard that the remaining steamboats were making for the ships under heavy fire from Maxims, pom-poms, and rifles.

Shortly afterwards the “Cease fire” sounded, and, hastily changing, we ran up on deck to see what damage had been done.

The town was on fire in two places, and the Governor’s house, which had stood out so conspicuously only a few short hours before, was now nothing but a mass of blackened ruins. But there was no time for any feeling of compunction or regret then, for a few minutes later our pinnace ran alongside with the Commander and the coxswain lying on the deck simply smothered in blood and barely conscious. They had both been hit no less than eight times in various places, and had stuck to their posts until they collapsed from loss of blood. Three others of the crew were wounded, though able to walk; and there was no sign of the demolition party and the other three officers. The wounded were carefully hoisted on board, and carried down to the sick bay, and we at once put to sea.

At 2 next morning we anchored in Zanzibar Harbour, and the wounded were transferred to the hospital.

By this time we had learned what had taken place while our boats were in the enemy’s harbour. They had no sooner entered the mouth than, despite the white flags, a heavy fire broke out from the shore. Nevertheless, gallantly proceeding with their duty, they had managed to destroy two ships, and had then run alongside a large hospital ship. Three of our officers, accompanied by the demolition party, had hardly boarded her before three Maxims were unmasked on her deck, opening a murderous fire on the boat, which was forced to retire.

One of our party—the surgeon—managed to fight his way back to the gangway; and, leaping into a small boat alongside, presented his revolver at the heads of two natives who were in it, and ordered them to row him back to the pinnace. They had only pulled a few strokes when the surgeon was hit in the head and fell down in the bottom of the boat, apparently dead. The natives at once turned the boat round and in terror of their lives rowed back to the treacherous hospital ship.

The pinnace was then forced to abandon all hope of recovering the prisoners, and with much difficulty fought her way out of the harbour and back to the ships.

For his gallantry on this occasion our Commander eventually received the V.C. The cox’un was awarded the C.G.M., and the lieutenant in command of the tug, who was also wounded, received the D.S.C.

At 6 next morning we put out from Zanzibar and proceeded again to Dar-es-Salaam, where we demanded the surrender of the prisoners, threatening in the event of a refusal to again bombard the town. The Germans, however, had no intention of relinquishing their captives, so at 9 a.m. we commenced fire. I think I forgot to mention that the Torpedo Lieutenant who had greeted us boys so kindly when we first arrived on the ship from Dartmouth was one of those taken prisoner on this occasion, to our very deep regret.

We ceased fire at 2 p.m. and put to sea for the night in case an attempt should be made to torpedo us. This second bombardment was not quite so successful as the first, but it started two more serious fires in the town—so we had our revenge all right!

That evening it was decided that on the following morning a party should be sent to attack and demolish the lighthouse, which was situated on a small island at the entrance to the harbour. For this purpose there was detailed a landing party, consisting of seamen and marines, officered by a lieutenant and the subaltern of marines. Browne, one of the “snotties,” was also to accompany this expedition. However, much to the general disappointment, the sea on the next morning proved too rough to allow of any boats being lowered, and we had to abandon the project and return to Zanzibar.